Chapter 7 - THE INVITATIONThe digital clock on the mahogany mantel read 11:00 AM.
For the past five hours, Belladonna had transformed into a fortress. Armed guards in tactical gear patrolled the perimeter fences, sniper teams were stationed along the slate rooflines, and every vehicle entering the estate was subjected to complete biometric and explosive scans.
Yet, inside the grand library, the atmosphere was agonizingly still.
My phone—retrieved from my desk at Sterling & Finch by one of Adrian’s extraction teams—buzzed violently against the walnut table. I jumped, staring at the screen as an incoming call lit up the dark display.
Caller ID: MARCUS STERLING.
I looked across the table at Adrian. He was standing by the tall bay window, watching the rain begin to streak across the glass with a terrifying, statue-like stillness. He didn't look back at me, but he raised a single finger, signaling for me to answer on speakerphone.
I took a deep, steadying breath, pressed the green button, and placed the phone on the table.
“Elena, my dear,” Marcus Sterling’s voice purred through the speaker. It was rich, cultured, and dripping with grandfatherly warmth—the kind of voice that made you want to trust him instantly. “I must say, your office has been in an absolute uproar this morning. Serena is missing, Julian isn't answering his phone, and corporate HR is telling me you haven't logged into your workstation. Are you alright?”
My fingers curled into the fabric of my trousers. “I’m fine, Mr. Sterling. Considering I spent the night in an active crime scene where someone tried to frame me for murder using my own employee badge.”
A soft, polite chuckle came through the line. “Ah. Yes, Julian mentioned there might be some… logistical complications with last night’s security protocols at the Moretti estate. He always was a bit heavy-handed with his staging ideas. That’s actually why I’m calling, Elena.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice cold.
“I’m hosting an emergency board meeting at the Sterling & Finch headquarters downtown this afternoon at two o'clock,” Marcus said smoothly. “As one of our most dedicated senior planners, your presence is required. We need to clear your name of any association with last night’s unpleasantness before the police get involved. Come to my private office on the forty-second floor. Alone, of course. We wouldn't want the media turning this into a circus.”
The line went dead with a soft click.
Silence descended upon the library. I looked up at Adrian, who had turned away from the window, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin.
“A trap,” I said.
“An invitation,” Adrian corrected, walking slowly toward the table until he was standing right beside my chair. He looked down at me, his slate-gray eyes burning with a dark, terrifying resolve. “Marcus thinks he’s cornered a frightened little event planner who will walk into his office alone with her tail between her legs.”
“And what do you think?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs, refusing to look away from his gaze.
May you like
Adrian placed a heavy, warm hand on my shoulder. The touch grounded me instantly, burning through the cold panic that had been gnawing at my stomach all morning.
“I think,” Adrian said, a dangerous, razor-thin smile touching the corner of his mouth, “it’s time we RSVP.”
